It has been three months since my last post, but fear not, I am still here. As the title of this blog might indicate (for you fans of The Script), I am "Falling to Pieces" a little after having just dropped the girls off for my first full day of work, but I'm here nonetheless.
I am a bit at a loss for where to even begin since so much has happened since my last post. I could make this post informational and tell you about Pumpkin's finally-detected-yet-still-undiagnosed-autoimmune disorder or how I yanked her out of school after a crazy-crying-mama meltdown in the daycare office during which I adamantly insisted to the director that I was NOT, in fact, crying. I could tell you all about our tiny, little, 25th percentile Bug with her incredible neck strength, sweet smile, and disdain for formula. I could tell you about her birth, her first Thanksgiving, her first Christmas or any number of other things. But instead, I'm going to tell you about yesterday.
While admittedly I have been working throughout my maternity leave (which I thought would make returning easier) yesterday was my official last day before I returned to an all-day, every-day, drop-the-kids-off-in-the-morning-and-don't-see-them-until-evening schedule. In honor of that and of the first day of sun in as long as I can remember, I thought we'd get out and have a family afternoon at the park followed by a special homecooked dinner. We get to the neighborhood park and I'm ready for an exhausting, giggle-filled afternoon of romping and playing. I could already envision how exhausted Pumpkin would be after we ran and skipped. I dressed her in her rough and tumble clothes to ensure the utmost in fun-having. I bundled Bug up and strapped her in the carrier, so we could walk around the playground (you know, like all those mommy-fitness magazines advise) while Daddy and Pumpkin frolicked.
My Norman Rockwell image of the afternoon was soon shattered. First, Bug hates the cold. She also hates formula (she has been exclusively breastfed thus far). Unluckily for her (and me) we were outside, in the cold, with a bottle of formula. Bad combination. As I'm bouncing and cooing and shushing, a gang of "big kids" of approximately 8-years old approached the playground which prompted our shy Pumpkin to stand in one spot and repeat over and over like Rainman that she didn't want the big kids to come over there. Hubby's calming the big, I'm trying to calm the little. Nobody's having fun. I finally resort to sitting in the car with Bug when I see the ABs approaching - apparently out little potty-training toddler didn't realize you could ask to go to the potty at a public park. I hadn't even thought to pack a pull up (my perfect version of the afternoon didn't include a dirty diaper). After less than half an hour, Hubby and I are slouched in the front seat of the car with two crying girls in the backseat. He looks over and says "that was fun."
So, as I should know by now, nothing in this parenting game goes as planned and that's okay. I had planned a special day and in some ways I still got one, even if it wasn't at the park. That's because after her nap and before she was fully awake, I got to hold my Pumpkin with her head resting on my shoulder, allowing me to stick my nose in that special spot at the nape of her neck that just smells like my baby and makes the whole, crazy world stop for a minute. I got to do the same to my Bug, whose spot is at the highest point of her cheekbone just above her chubby cheek. When my nose and lips hit those tender places everything is right in the world. I'll never understand that magic.
I'll also never understand the depth or magnitude of the love that I feel for these two girls. It's funny that already their two very distinct personalities shine through. It's also funny, as I was thinking about their differences, that they are already very much like the two grandmothers for whom they are each named.
Pumpkin is my strong-minded, fiercely-loving child. She tells you what she thinks and she can be moody and challenging. She makes demands. She often wants things on her terms. But, at the same time, she is love in its strongest sense. Unconditional. Almost ferocious. Being together matters. Family matters. She is so much like my Mee Maw (whose namesake she is) in those ways. Her loves pushes me and makes me want to be better. Her love reveals to me the places where I fall short and how much I need God. Her love makes me grow and teaches me.
On the other hand, Bug's love is easy. Bug doesn't need much. She doesn't push me. Instead, she lets me be. She takes me as I am, where I am, and when I can. Just as her sister is pushing, she is allowing me to fall. Her love is also unconditional, but it is quiet. It waits for me to be ready and it just is. Although I only knew her a brief while, this is the love that Hubby's grandma Margaret had for those she called her own.
Each of their loves is just a reflection of the love of God. He challenges, yet He is there when we fall. Sometimes He is fiery; sometimes He is simply Peace. He has blessed me more than I deserve with these two girls, but I pray that I will become worthy through loving them as He loved me. I also pray that before they are too old I find another place to nuzzle them, as I have a feeling Pumpkin really isn't going to like going to high school with me kissing the back of her neck.
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